Getting a Little Help
by 6cbrilhante
Summary: Cuddy can't find House anywhere. What is wrong with him? Birthday gift for TaniaMD96!


_So last night I saw Hugh Laurie in Lisbon and there I gave my friend _TaniaMD96_ her late birthday gift. Guess what was it? This fic! And now that she has read it first, it's time for you all to have a chance to look at this. Also a special thank you to _partypantscuddy _for beta'ing this. Also a special mention not only to Tânia but also _Sheis1963_, Cristina (these two lucky b*tches got Hugh's autograph!) and Joana. And to _SissiCuddles_, I wish you could have been there last night, it was amazing!_

_Now less talking more… fanfic'ing?_

**Getting A Little Help**

"Where is he?" Cuddy was once again pissed off at House. Once again, her most difficult employee was being stubborn and missing clinic duty while patients rushed to PPTH with headaches (high temperatures), sunburns (some overprotective parents who worried about anything had to bring their kids and make the situation worse), even colds (mostly from wet clothes trying to cool down) and STD's (it was summer, what did you want?).

"Try the roof, or the morgue, or his office, or coma patient's room, or even an exam room where he may be napping." Wilson answered not looking at his boss, his concentration centered on the pile of paperwork he had on his desk that he was trying to get done between appointments with his dying patients.

"Already did. He's not there. And he's not answering his cell phone either. I even tried his home phone, nothing. I have no idea where he may be. I left him a message in his voicemail, but the son of a bitch just decided not to show up."

"It's almost 5 pm, why don't you check his place when you go home?"

"He checked in this morning, in the lobby they haven't seen him leaving. He has to be in the hospital."

"Maybe he got out early and didn't feel like checking out. He just solved his latest case, clinic duty bores him like hell. He may be home and not feeling like checking in."

"Okay. I'll stop by his apartment once I leave."

When she exited Wilson's office, her concern outweighed her anger.

[H]

It was about 5:40 pm and Cuddy was preparing to leave. She had just put on her gray jacket and was about to get out of the office when House walked in.

"Where the hell were…" but then she noticed. His eyebrows were more clenched than usual, the wrinkles in his forehead were extremely visible. His eyes were red like if he had been crying, his clothes more wrinkled than she had ever seen before, he was heavily leaning on his can (with both of his hands) and she could swear she had spotted some sweat on his neck. "What happened?" Cuddy asked with her voice full of concern. The answer was too obvious: too much pain.

"Leg's hurting. More than usual, I mean." He responded before sitting on her couch. It was almost a whisper, and it was not a good sign. He rubbed the mangled leg and in a painful gesture he brought it up with him, so that he was lying on the couch. It was not usual behavior for him, not in her office at least, but he couldn't help it.

"Breakthrough pain." Cuddy stated. "Need anything? Pain meds?"

He answered after a few seconds, his voice panting. "Morphine would be nice."

"You know I can't give you morphine like that. You have your Vicodin, why don't you use it?"

"Already did, it barely takes the edge off for a couple of minutes. If I take too many I'll overdose and as a doctor you should advise against that. Please, Cuddy, it hurts…" but he was cut off by a huge spike of pain that forced him to throw his head backward, trying his best not to scream and let everyone out of the office know what was going on. Instinctively, Cuddy reached for his hand, trying to give him as much support as she could at that moment. As soon as she saw it had softened a little bit, she ran to the pharmacy, grabbing everything she needed.

When she came back to the office, House was still there, unsuccessfully trying to fight the pain. She rolled up his shirt's sleeve and, after sterilizing the skin with alcohol, she stuck the syringe there. Less than a minute later he was asleep, resigned at the effects of the powerful chemical. That night, Cuddy made arrangements to sleep in her office, not wanting to leave her friend alone after such a sudden and difficult episode.

When she fell asleep she had a tear rolling down her face, remembering her major role in the events that lead up to House's chronic condition.

[H]

The morning after when Cuddy woke up House was there, awake, but he was just staring into space, deep in thought. He hadn't even bothered moving from the position he had been the night before, which had to be quite uncomfortable, but at least he didn't show any sign of being in the amount of pain he had been then. She stared at him for a few minutes and then he spoke.

"It happens sometimes… usually in the night, after a particularly tiring day, or in the early morning… It never happened in the afternoon before… I can't control when it happens, it's just impossible. It just happens."

"How often?" She asked.

"Sometimes once every a couple of months, sometimes once or twice a week, I can't help it."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Cuddy was still worried, shocked at the revelation. The amount of pain he endured everyday was no secret for her, neither the existence of hard times like the previous night, but hearing him confirm it was too much.

"No. Cuddy…" he started, but then he stopped like if he was about to say something that… wouldn't be like his usual self. But then he continued. "It's not your fault."

"What?"

"Your guilt complex is telling you my pain is your fault. It's not. I was the one who didn't allow the amputation. You only wanted to save my life. Thank you… for that."

"House… I'm your friend. You know you don't have to hide your pain from me. Or from Wilson, for that matter."

"I know."

And he exited the office.

[H]

Three weeks later he called her. It was about midnight when he told her he was in pain and needed help. At first, Cuddy was surprised, since House wasn't one to open up easily, especially not about his leg. Then she got worried, two episodes of breakthrough pain in less than a month were not a good sign. Before she realized she was out of bed, out of her house, out of her car and in front of his apartment's door. And before she realized it the door was open, House standing in front of her, not showing a sign of pain, and surprisingly ready to leave.

"Where do you wanna go?" He asked her in a casual way. She was still shocked, half relieved that he wasn't suffering, half angry that he was being his usual idiot self by waking her up in the middle of the night and worrying her for no reason just because he felt like it.

"House, what the hell are you doing? I thought you were in pain!"

"Everybody lies. So, where do you want to go?"

"What?"

"I never got to properly thank you."

"You're an ass."

"Bummer."

"You realize it's midnight, don't you?"

"Who cares? Tomorrow is a Sunday, we don't have to go to work."

She considered his proposal for a few moments, then she said "Let's go to a bar. A drink between friends. And then I feel like going to the park. Is that okay with you?"

He smiled and, closing the door of his apartment, he led her to his car. As they exited got out of the building, little did they know that than night was just the beginning of something greater.


End file.
